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January 17, 1991
The front door opens and closes, a chill running down her spine until it manifests as a shiver. Things around here have been tense for the last 2 days, since the argument started. It’s been the silent treatment, on both parts. Except for the times that she’s decided to be snide. Which is, coincidentally, a trait she inherited year 4 of their relationship.
“Hey, babe,” she calls out from the couch.
Her eyes are fixed on the page of her book, but she definitely isn’t retaining any words. She sighs as she closes the book, keeping her thumb in the middle to use as a marker. After peering over the back of the couch, she sees Nancy peeling her jacket off to hang up. She is definitely refusing to give her the time of day.
“How was work?” She tries. The other woman huffs and, when she turns, definitely shoots Robin a glare. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and flips the book over, laying it on the coffee table face down. She mumbles, “I guess we’re still doing this.”
The brunette walks by her, pulling her shirt out of the band of her skirt. It’s grueling to watch because she knows Nancy’s game, she knows it’ll be a bitter torture until, finally, things come to an end. They’ve lived together for a year and a half, and only argued like this twice, but she’s a really good note taker.
“Well, my day was ok, thanks for asking,” she says, “I got home early so I read a couple chapters from that book I was telling you about.”
She abandons the book on the table and gets up from the couch. She still doesn’t know how to be an equal opponent in the game of arguing. The only thing she knows to do is pretend like it isn’t happening. Which is certainly getting old now.
She clears her throat as she follows Nancy into the kitchen, hoping for at least a glance in her direction. She watches as Nancy opens the cabinet and reaches for a glass. It’s barely out of her reach which, Robin expects, because she intentionally set them all far enough back so that she couldn’t reach. She feels a little bad, but it’s the only move she has in this game.
“Babe,” she says softly as she pushes up on her toes to grab the glass for her, “How long are you going to be mad at me?”
“Mm,” Nancy huffs, “How long am I gonna have to live with this?”
She hands over the glass while staring at Nancy’s face, knowing that there’s no way she can answer that question without this continuing. She sucks in a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for the fallout. This is already killing her.
“I think you know the answer to that,” she replies.
“Welp,” Nancy says, looking at her with tight eyes, “There you go.”
The other woman sets the empty glass down on the counter and turns on her heel. It takes her a moment to react and Nancy’s already far enough away that she has to struggle to catch up. She takes the longest strides her long legs will let her take. Careful not to get too close, to not get into her space when she’s so angry, she trails behind as the brunette crosses the threshold to the bedroom.
“Nancy, please,” she says, staring at her. As the other woman starts taking her shirt off, she stares, totally unable to look away. And, ok, this is another argument tactic, she knows, but it doesn’t make it any easier. She is not a fan of arguing or space or whatever it is they’re doing. “I know you’re mad-“
“Very,” Nancy says, sharply.
“I know you’re very mad,” Robin says again, “But I can’t take this anymore.”
Nancy grunts in response, actually sounding like one of those idiot dudes she remembers from her college. Not that she interacts with them much. She had Steve by then and he followed her to Boston when she finally decided to go to a real college outside of Indiana. Nancy convinced her, like she so easily could convince anyone, and Steve too. The three of them lived together for a year, but now they’re on their own. She misses Steve, at an apartment a few blocks away. It’s so lonely when Nancy is mad at her.
“What can I do?” She asks.
She leans against the dresser, blocking the doorway to the bathroom. Nancy holds nothing back, peeling her shirt off and putting it into the hamper. Her eyes flutter when she looks at Robin, her own hand finding the clasp in her bra. She swallows thickly at the sight of her two friends, Daphne and Velma, greeting her.
“It’s permanent,” Nancy says with a pointed look.
“You haven’t even looked at it,” Robin reminds her, “I told you that I did it and you’ve been running away ever since.”
“I do not run away,” Nancy snaps.
“Ok, ok,” she concedes, “Wrong word choice, but you haven’t even seen it. How do you know you don’t like it?”
“Because you didn’t even talk to me,” Nancy says, evenly yet exasperated. She holds her breath, sending signals out into the universe for Nancy to just let her have it. Anything to make all of this be done and over. All of this, of course, while trying to keep her gaze on Nancy’s. “This is permanent. What if you change your mind?”
“You know I don’t change my mind that easily,” she replies. Nancy turns her back towards her, moving to grab her sweater off of the bed beside where she stands. They’re close in proximity, so she dares to reach out after she pulls the article of clothing on over her head. Her deft fingers brush over the other woman’s shoulder. “Do you want to see it?”
They stand in silence for a moment, her hand resting on Nancy’s shoulder and curling around it. She slides her hand to the other woman’s neck, letting it slip beneath brunette hair so she can sweep her thumb across the back of Nancy’s neck. The other woman’s breath becomes more shallow in the silence with each passing second.
This is the 3rd time she’s asked her and each time has ended the same way. Nancy has stormed off and put her head in the game. It would be much easier if she weren’t so madly in love with someone so capable of being an asshole.
Finally, Nancy says, “Yes.”
Stunned, her hand drops from the other woman’s shoulder. It falls right off of her back. As prepared as she is to grovel for days, she really doesn’t want to do that for a second longer. They fight very differently and when she likes it to be over and done with, Nancy could keep it going for days.
She moves around Nancy and sits on the side of the bed. It smells like Nancy and a little bit like her. Years of mixing together, of floral scents hidden in woodsy. It always surprises people which scent belongs to who.
Her hands grasp the hem of her shirt and she moves her hands around it to get a better grip. Her left hand tugs the t-shirt up near her back while her right hand trails behind. She’s careful to avoid touching any skin. It’s been bad enough with her shirt brushing against it. When she looks up, Nancy’s eyes are planted on the thing - an anchor with a sunflower entwined through it.
After a moment of searching the other woman’s face and coming up short, she says, “Do you, uh, like it?”
The harrowing gaze on the brunette’s face loosens and she sees the first trace of her Nancy in days. She watches as the woman gets down on her knees before leaning in to look at the etching into her skin. Her ribs hurt something stupid. When Nancy nods softly, she feels like she’s been awarded a Nobel prize. The other woman’s hands quickly replace hers to hold the garment up, giving her freedom of her own limbs. She chances it, reaching forward to push some hair behind Nancy’s ear.
“It’s the principle,” Nancy says softly.
“You’re mad because of principle?” She says.
“I’m mad because you didn’t talk to me,” Nancy reiterates. She feels a hand against her ribs, but she won’t look at her. She doesn’t want to see anger instilled in her eyes anymore.
“You were gone,” she barely manages.
“I was gone for three days,” Nancy says, a little bit condescending, “You couldn’t have waited to have the conversation then?”
“Ok, yes,” she says, clamping her mouth shut because, ok, Nancy is right .
“The bottom line is,” Nancy says, hand splaying against her hip, “You’re dating Steve.”
“I am not!” She protests, gagging at the thought.
“You so are,” Nancy huffs, voice at a low register, “And the two of you making decisions for me is absolutely not what I want.”
“But he’s a man,” she says, grimacing at the thought.
“And the principle is,” Nancy says, leaning back yet leaving her hand on Robin’s thigh, “We should talk about things before either of us make a big decision. It’s permanent.”
“We did,” she says, voice cracking.
“We talked about it in theory,” Nancy counters, “And just because it’s cute doesn’t mean the principle stopped existing.”
“Nancy,” she says, whining and sighing at the same time.
“It’s the principle,” Nancy says again.
“So are you just going to be mad at me forever?” Robin asks, staring at the side of Nancy’s face as she keeps her eyes locked on the tattoo at her ribs.
“Yes,” Nancy says, finally smirking, “But I will stop ignoring you.”
She sighs in relief, releasing an all encompassing breath. Her tense muscles loosen and she can see a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel. The only thing standing in her way of being on the other side is this accusation that she would date Steve or any other man. Nancy’s nails brush against the ink and it stings like a gust of wind. She winces and curls her middle, shying away from the other woman’s touch.
“That hurts,” she grumbles.
“No shit,” Nancy says, snorting. The brunette stands slowly, letting go of her shirt as she does. She misses the contact. It’s been days, but at least she wasn’t kicked out of bed. “Your skin is raw.”
“No,” she says, dropping her gaze to the floor, “I mean you ignoring me.”
“Ok, well,” Nancy starts, more combative in the shoulders, “I’m sorry.”
Robin blinks at the apology, not really sure how to respond. Nancy’s words mean something. Although she does enjoy banter on occasion, and will flirt sporadically, she never says something she doesn’t mean. She feels soft fingers against her jaw, but it’s fleeting. Ridiculously, she’s forgotten what it feels like.
“Thank you,” Robin says, fixing a smile to her mouth.
“It’s just,” Nancy starts, breathes deep, and turns away like she’s been burned, “When we get married, is it going to be about what we want?”
“When we what?” She says, something in brain becoming unplugged.
“Not now,” Nancy says, turning on her heel, “But one day. In a few years.”
“Oh, um,” she says, shaking her head, “You want to do that?”
“Not with Steve,” Nancy says flippantly, “I’m not really the best at sharing. I like him and everything, but I don’t plan on including him in my decisions. I already have to live with your insufferable matching tattoos.”
“You said it was cute,” Robin reminds her.
“It would be cuter if it didn’t match the one on your best friend’s body,” Nancy deadpans.
She pulls up her shirt again, looking down at the anchor and sunflower. She traces it with her eyes, looking at the piece of artwork. They had both said what they wanted and the artist put the two things together. God, the guy probably thought they were dating. It always happens like that to them.
“But he’s my best friend,” she says, just repeating what Nancy said, “We wanted to match. And we got it in the place where he has that huge scar. You know, the one from-“
“I know,” Nancy says, voice softer now, “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
“Me neither,” she replies. She looks up at the other woman, noting the tension in her jaw is fading. She lets the shirt drop back to its rightful place, covering the waistband of her sweatpants. She swallows and says, “I hate fighting with you. I love you and you’re my favorite person in the entire world.”
“Oh my god,” Nancy says, sighing and rolling her eyes, “Do not make me call you a liar.”
“No, really,” she says, desperately reaching out for her, “I mean it.”
“Yeah right,” Nancy scoffs. She gives in, stepping between her knees. Finally , she thinks. Sighing in relief, she wraps her arms around the brunette’s waist and hugs her tightly. “You would not get matching tattoos with me.”
“You’re my girlfriend and that would be totally irresponsible,” Robin says, “But I totally would if you wanted to.”
She gets a smile in return, soft and gentle, as Nancy cups her jaw. Her heart races and she feels like everything is settling into place, right where it used to be. Maybe Nancy is mad, but she won’t be forever. As long as she isn’t getting the silent treatment, she will survive. She holds her breath as Nancy leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth.
She hears herself squeak in response, like a weak person - a hopeless lesbian. Nancy looks at her pointedly, an eyebrow arching slowly. Heart hammering, she lets her eyes drift closed to give her other senses a chance to drink the contact in.
“Are we good?” She asks.
“We will always be good,” Nancy says, voice barely above a whisper. She smiles, feeling the bliss of a fight over because she certainly couldn’t deal with it for one more day. The hands on her shoulders slide over her arms until the touch is gone. “I’m still mad though.”
“What if I got Property of Nancy Wheeler tattooed across my back? Will you be less mad then?” She asks, eyebrows lifting on her forehead.
“How about not?” Nancy says, rolling her eyes.
She watches her girlfriend walk away until she disappears back into the living room of the apartment. She gets up then, following the trail until she’s standing in the kitchen with the other woman. Nancy is finally getting her glass of water, letting the tap run into the glass.
“Hey, so,” she starts, leaning a hip against the counter and looking down at the countertop. Her brain is back to the thing that Nancy said before, not an if they get married but a when . And, ok, maybe she’s known that she would be happy to spend her life with Nancy Wheeler but she’s a catch compared to plain ‘ole Robin. “You buried the lead.”
Nancy’s eyes widen first as she looks at her over the rim of the glass, clearly confused. Not her girlfriend being the most direct person she’s ever met, which she appreciates greatly with her lack of social intelligence, burying the lead. That is so not like her. As she pulls the glass down, Nancy swallows and says, “What lead?”
“Not the if but when ,” she stresses, “You said that.”
“Baby,” Nancy says softly, putting her glass down to put her hands elsewhere (like cupping her face), “What are we doing if that’s not our end goal?”
Her mouth hangs open for a moment and she feels like a total Dingus. Is this what Steve feels like all of the time? She doesn’t even know how he functions in such a brainless state. She shrugs and says, “Are you sure you can live with this stupid thing for the rest of your life?”
She’s scowling now, she can feel it. With a tattoo that Nancy hates, there’s no way this thing will last more than a year. She ruined everything, just like usual. (Reminding herself that they’ve been together 4 years, almost 5!!!, is not helping at all.)
“As long as I get to have you,” Nancy says, grinning.
The brunette pushes up on her toes and leans forward, kidding her soft and wanting. The fact that they were fighting no less than 20 minutes ago isn’t exactly lost on her. When she pulls back, the other woman’s hands slide down her front and, on the way to her hips, brushes the raw skin of her ribs. She grits her teeth.
“Oh, you can have me,” Robin says, nodding frantically, “As long as you want.”
After a beat, Nancy says, “So I guess make up sex is off the table.”
“No, no,” she says, eyes widening, “That is never off the table.”
“You wince every time I touch your torso,” Nancy says with a scoff, “We are not doing it tonight.”
Her bottom lip juts out on its own accord, a very prominent display of her disappointment with that response. If she weren’t as big of a baby as she is, she could make her way through it. She tilts her head in thought before saying, “You could just not look at my face.”
“Or,” Nancy says softly, “We can order in and have sex when you aren’t in excruciating pain.”
“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she replies. Beaming, she lifts her hands to the other woman’s hair and buries her fingers in it. It feels normal, like everything is back how it should be, tattoo and all. When Nancy moves her hands, it’s to slide up her sides as normal. She flinches and says, “Ok, maybe with your wandering hands we wouldn’t be able to have sex.”
“Told you,” the brunette murmurs, triumphant look spreading across her mouth.
“But, Nance,” she says, remembering that she hasn’t even told her what it means. Now that she’s listening, Robin feels like she has so much she needs to say. The other woman was gone for 3 days and they’ve been at odds ever since she got back. She places a quick kiss to Nancy’s mouth, smiling widely. Her teeth slide across the brunette’s upper lip and, as she lifts her shirt again, she says, “Look, the anchor means grounded and the sunflower means loyalty. Plus, we met at Scoops Ahoy so it’s kinda a symbol from the beginning of our friendship.”
“Just give me some time to get used to it, ok?” Nancy asks, a lot softer than the edges she had when she first got home.
“You still love me?” Robin says, pushing her hands to convene at the back of the other woman’s neck.
“Yes,” Nancy says, laughing as she leans forward and presses into her in a hug, “I still love you.”
“Yay,” she cheers, lifting a hand into the air.
Nancy laughs, smacks her in the chest, and hands over the menu for the Thai restaurant. After ordering their food, she joins Nancy on the couch. She sits in the corner, picking up her book where she left it. The other woman flips on the television, finds something to settle on, and leans against her. As she curls her arm around Nancy’s shoulders, who promptly puts her head against her not healing ribs, Robin thinks that everything will be ok.